


chasing the horizon

by Adaris



Series: no glory in the west [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Banter, Established Relationship, Fluff, Jedi Culture, Lorde grade melodrama, M/M, Memory Loss, Obi-Wan Kenobi's Daddy Issues, Post-Order 66, Pre-Order 66 (Star Wars), Thoughtcrime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:21:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25738000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adaris/pseuds/Adaris
Summary: Summer in Republic City—hot enough to make even General Skywalker sweat, the taste of metal in the air, the vendors selling the same wares, but frozen, water bottles to lunches to magazines. People visit the fountains less to admire then, and more to hope the wind might blow some of the water in their direction. Obi-Wan is getting more freckles by the minute. Things are just sticky, all the time, and the humid air makes Cody’s hair curl into a frizzy mess.But at the same time, the 212th is scheduled for exactly one week of shore leave in Republic City, right at the height of summer.They’re going to enjoy every goddamn second.—CC-2224 has never been to Coruscant.
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Series: no glory in the west [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1868179
Comments: 36
Kudos: 189





	1. nowhere left to go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is NOT an extended reference to Summertime by Orville Peck

“You went back into the Temple for _that_?”

Obi-Wan smiles flippantly. “I have enough freckles as is.”

“How am I going to walk next to you?” Cody asks, not complaining, but close. He wants to be right next to Obi-Wan, close as they can get.

“You’ll find a way. You’re a clever man.” The wide-brimmed straw hat pokes Cody in the cheek as Obi-Wan leans against him, and the hat’s decorative green ribbon flutters between them.

“I am, thank you for noticing. And the way is sunscreen.” Cody ducks down, sneaking in a kiss to Obi-Wan’s lips.

Obi-Wan tilts his head back and laughs, his blue eyes shaded by the hat. “I’m just wearing this to mess with you. I did put on sun cream.”

“Well, that’s good. Although you’re keeping that thing on—you started this, and you’re going to finish it.”

“That’s what he said,” Obi-Wan teases.

Cody growls in mock anger and grabs Obi-Wan by the waist, tugging him closer. “Sass,” he accuses.

“Sass,” Obi-Wan agrees, tilting his head forward so his nose brushes Cody’s. Then the incorrigible Jedi wiggles out of Cody’s grasp and loops their arms together. “Now, may I show you my favorite places in Republic City, or would you like to waste even more of our time?”

“Hm… you know, now that you mention it…”

Obi-Wan laughs again, and he’s _beautiful_ , the sun turning his sandy hair to copper, eyes sparkling blue-grey, so beautiful Cody can barely stand to look at him. “All right, all right. Let’s go.”

As they walk away from the Temple, their steps fall into synch. Obi-Wan’s wearing what he calls his ‘casual robes’, a sandy tunic with dark brown leggings and boots. Really, he’s just removed most of the outer layers. He seems less like a Jedi and more an enthusiastic fanboy, although it’s still a lot of clothes for the weather.

“How are you not melting in that?” Cody asks, wiping sweat off his forehead. “I’m wearing shorts so short they barely cover my ass, and I’m still sweating.”

Obi-Wan looks at him sheepishly. “I might be using the Force to keep cool. I just… don’t like showing my legs. You’re lucky I’m not wearing sleeves as part of my cover.”

“That’s fair. Although, they are nice legs, and I wouldn’t object to seeing them more.”

“Thank you, darling,” Obi-Wan says, half-teasing. “You have nice legs, too. Nice arse. Nice everything, really.” He ducks into an alley that widens out into a hidden park, tucked against the base of the Temple several stories down from the main entrance. It’s not very large, just enough space for some small flower beds, grass, and a fountain. A cobblestone path cuts through the center, leading to a street on the other side.

Obi-Wan pulls Cody towards the fountain, and drops of water fleck their clothes and skin. “I do enjoy the Room of a Thousand Fountains, but sometimes, you just want one.”

“I think it’s beautiful.” Cody traces the edge of a flower and is astonished at how velvety soft the petals are. They’re from somewhere far away, where everything is delicate. He’s almost afraid he’ll bruise the flower just by touching it.

“I haven’t been here in several months… I used to bring Anakin here to meditate, when he was younger. He found it easier here than in the Temple, where there were so many distractions.” Obi-Wan sits down on a park bench and holds out a hand for Cody to join him.

He fits against Obi-Wan’s side like he belongs there. “Who are the people in the fountain?”

“Ah.” Obi-Wan looks up at the mossy statues. “They’re Jedi Knights who died several hundred years ago. There are memorials to deceased Jedi around and underneath the Temple, and in some of the streets nearby. And in smaller Temples across the Galaxy.”

“That’s a lot of fountains.” Cody can’t fathom the thousands of years of history that must be entombed in this Temple alone.

“They’re not _all_ fountains. My master requested a tree be planted for him in one of the larger gardens. And in the very bottom level of the Temple is the Kyber Crystal Repository, which preserves lightsabers for their historical value and keeps them safe for future use.” Obi-Wan reaches out one hand to the mossy fountain, depicting four Jedi Knights in older styles of dress. Four corresponding points of light appear in the statues’ chests; one blue, two green, and one yellow. Obi-Wan’s saber, safely hidden in a pocket, glows gently in response. “They’re part of my lineage. Some of Master Yoda’s students from centuries past.”

“Lineage?” Cody also knew objectively that Grand Master Yoda was old, but _how_ old?

“We don’t have families, but the succeeding line of padawans and masters is referred to as a lineage. We’re not a traditional family, but I consider them my ancestors, in an abstract sense.”

“Taking me to meet the relatives already,” Cody says, snuggling against Obi-Wan. “Some might say that’s moving fast.”

“I know Rex and Alpha,” Obi-Wan points out, “And I met Jango. Even fought with him.” He leans his head against Cody’s shoulder. Somehow, despite the heat, he’s comfortably warm.

Cody runs one hand through Obi-Wan’s soft coppery hair. “That’s true. I wish I could have met your master.”

“Hmm. I’m not sure how you and Qui-Gon would have got on. Although he’d be very amused to find me in a relationship. Insufferable, really. And if he knew I was on the Council…” Obi-Wan makes a face. “I’d imagine he’d have a few choice words for me.”

“At least these four don’t find me objectionable.” Cody tilts his head at the statues.

“Oh, no! I don’t think he would have disliked you. It’s just that you’re both stubborn to no end, and when he thought he was right, no power could move him. Especially not me.” There’s a pause while Obi-Wan picks at the edge of his tunic. “He’d have a lot to say about this war. He’d berate me and the rest of the Council for not securing your rights, for going along with the will of the Senate. But we don’t... we don’t have that kind of power. The Senate controls us, at this point. Still, he’d try, and yell at everyone who didn’t join him.”

“He sounds like a good person, if argumentative.”

“Mmm. More great than good.” Obi-Wan shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “It’s... being here... I wanted to enjoy this. I’m sorry, darling, this was supposed to be fun, not me dumping all my emotions on you.”

“I want to hear your thoughts and support you, idiot. Life isn’t all fun and games, and... yeah. I want to know what you’re thinking, what’s bothering you.” Cody kisses the side of Obi-Wan’s cheek and cups his face in one hand.

Obi-Wan leans into the touch, pressing Cody’s hand against his face. “The Council wanted to help you, all of your brothers, at least give you a choice to stay or go. But the Senate put sanctions on the entire Order, saying we were being unpatriotic, refusing soldiers when we needed them so much. If we don’t play along, the planets that support us and the Corps will force us offworld. All our outreach programs will be defunded, and they’ll hand you over to the Admirals. It was never officially recorded, but they made their intent clear. I’m—I’m so sorry we couldn’t help you.”

“Could be worse.”

“Could be better. It’s... I have hope for the future. Or, I want to. I have to believe we can give you the rights and freedoms you deserve, in the future, when Chancellor Palpatine and the Senate have less power over us.”

“Well thanks, babe, that’s cool of you.”

“Cody.”

He dips his head and sighs. “Yeah. I want that too. But... it kind of hurts to hope about it.”

Obi-Wan kisses the palm of Cody’s hand. “Jedi were supposed to bring hope, before the war started.”

“You bring me a lot of things, hope included.” He leans his entire body against Obi-Wan, who squirms at the warmth.

“Ah, you’re like a hot, sweaty, heavy blanket,” Obi-Wan grumbles.

“Maybe so.” Cody flops over on top of him. “You’re sweaty too.”

“Ugh.” He shoves at Cody’s shoulder. “Gross.”

“Okay, okay.” Cody stands up, and Obi-Wan fans himself dramatically, already slightly pink from the heat.

“I’m ready to go somewhere cooler. Shall we grab supper? I know a place.”

Cody stands up so Obi-Wan can follow. “If you mean lunch, yes.”

“You know what I—” Obi-Wan shakes his head. “Let’s go.” As he walks away from the garden, back into the city, his steps get lighter. “It’s not exactly reputable. Will that offend your sensibilities?”

“Very little could offend me,” Cody says, although it feels like he’s inviting fate as he does so. “I am a bit surprised, I guess. I thought you’d prefer some fancy restaurant on High Street.”

“Whatever gave you that idea?” Obi-Wan grins, tilting his head to the side. And it’s true, his posh accent and effortless charm does give people certain misconceptions about him. “You remember Dex, the man who helped me find Kamino? He also has a diner. Hope you like grease.”

“No more than any other person likes grease,” Cody says suspiciously.

“Obi!” an overly enthusiastic voice booms. A besalisk roughly the size of Wrecker swoops down on Obi-Wan and gives him a friendly hug.

Obi-Wan squeaks and pats the besalisk’s elbow. “Hello, Dex.”

“It’s been a long time. And who’s this?”

“Dex, this is my boyfriend, Cody.” Obi-Wan straightens his robes when he’s set back onto the ground.

When Dex’s gaze fixes on Cody, for a second, he thinks he’s back on Umbara, gods, _he had them kill each other and laughed about it, threw them into the grinder for fun, sliced them apart with his double-bladed lightsabers, and he_ laughed _about it—_ then he blinks, and the heavyset man in the greasy apron is just another person, staring at Cody like he’s a particularly interesting rock. “Well, would you look at that. Nice to see they let you boys out sometimes.”

Cody nods, heart still thumping too loud, and he bites back a reflexive _kriff you and the horse you rode in on_. “Yes, they let us out among all the normal people if we’ve been good,” he says acerbically.

“Ah, look at me, sticking my foot in my mouth already. You’re one of the commanders, aren’t you?” Dex’s face softens, and he leads Cody and Obi-Wan to a worn, fake-leather booth.

“Yes, I am.” Cody shakes his head. “I’m sorry, it’s just—” he growls and shakes his head again.

“There’s no need to explain if you don’t want to.” Two menus materialize out of thin air, printed on worn flimsi. “Let me know what you’d like. Drinks, chips, complimentary bread basket?”

Cody lets Obi-Wan order, and he watches Dex closely; the besalisk seems genuine. But a lot of things have seemed genuine before.

“Hey,” Obi-Wan says quietly after they order. “I’m sorry I didn’t warn you; I had no idea it would remind you of Umbara.”

“He seems alright. I just—for a moment—it was hard not to remember. I’m fine now.” Cody tries to smile.

“Alright. But please let me know if you’d rather go back to the Temple or the ship. They do takeaway.” Obi-Wan reaches across the table to hold Cody’s hand.

Before he can decide against it, Cody stands up and joins him on the other side of the table. It’s hot as hell outside, but the diner is cool, and Obi-Wan’s presence is reassuringly warm and solid. As if he knows exactly what Cody wants, Obi-Wan wraps both arms around Cody’s waist.

The next time Dex appears, with cold drinks and the promised greasy burgers with chips, he says, “Hm, I think I’ll leave you two to it,” only half joking.

Cody smiles, looks up at Obi-Wan, and knows he’s safe.

Eating food that hasn’t come from a mass-produced wrapper is… strange. The concept of a burger is anathema to field rations; it falls apart, it spoils easily, and judging by the way Obi-Wan tells Cody exactly what sauce to put on it, and the array of sauces provided, people like to customize. It’s also deeply unhealthy. Cody isn’t sure if he actually likes it, but Obi-Wan clearly does, judging by the noises.

Honestly, he’s more happy that Obi-Wan is having fun.

“How did you even find this place?”  
Obi-Wan looks up, halfway through slurping his soda. “Oh, my master used to take me here. He helped Dex buy this place, actually. Then I started taking Anakin here, and he started bringing Ahsoka. It’s a lineage secret at this point.”

Cody sneaks a few of Obi-Wan’s chips and munches on them. “And now I know.”

“Yes.” Obi-Wan steals a handful of Cody’s chips in retaliation and asks, “What do you think?”

He scratches the back of his head. “S’nice.”

“You had to say that.”

“Yes? Maybe. It’s different. I’ve spent most of my life eating mass-produced food and ration bars. Flavor, texture… not really important.” He almost doesn’t know how to handle it. Sometimes, on Kamino, Prime would make traditional Mandalorian food for the CCs, which had been spicy as sith hells. But this isn’t spicy, just flavorful. And, as promised, greasy.

Obi-Wan seems satisfied with Cody’s answer and keeps nibbling on the chips.

They get two slices of meiluuron and blueberry pie to go, and as Dex hands Cody the cardboard box, he says, “The two of you are a cute couple, and I hope you make each other happy.”

“M—me too,” Cody replies, fumbling with the pie. “I’m sorry about earlier. You have a very nice establishment. Food’s good, too.”

Dex grins, showing rows of tombstone-shaped teeth. “Thank you. You know, I knew Jango back when he just became a bounty hunter, and you remind me of him. In a good way! I hope you take care of Obi-Wan.”

“I will.” He doesn’t promise, because promises can be broken. He states the truth.

“I’d expect nothing less,” Dex says, almost approvingly. “Well, enjoy the pie, and don’t forget to drop by when you’re next on Coruscant. Different pie flavor every week. And some of them are even good.”

Despite himself, Cody laughs; or, the closest he usually comes to laughing, a little _hmmph_ that Obi-Wan always teases him about.

They walk hand in hand through the streets, and when no one’s looking, Obi-Wan uses the Force to stir up the city’s hot, still air. The complete lack of any geography other than endless flat city makes the climate on Coruscant strangely still and calm.

“That was just about all I had planned out for us. I’m not one for public swimming pools or amusement parks, but maybe you might enjoy them?” Obi-Wan offers. The idea of him swimming at a public pool is pretty amusing.

“Strangely, amusement parks aren’t as fun when you’ve been on the real versions of all the rides,” Cody agrees. What’s a rollercoaster when you’ve lived through a patented Skywalker Rough Landing? “But I’ll do anything as long as it’s with you.”

“Sap,” Obi-Wan laughs, giving Cody’s shoulder a nudge. “I‘m certain everyone believes I’m the one spouting floral statements left and right, but really, you’re the one to blame.”

“You have your fair share.”

Obi-Wan grumbles a bit. “Maybe so,” he concedes. “But I blame the accent.”

They walk in silence for a few minutes, arm in arm. Some of the other pedestrians recognize Cody not as an individual, but as just another clone. Their gazes linger on him, probably wondering what the hell a clone is doing wandering around the streets in civilian clothes. He pretends they’re looking at the scar instead. Maybe they just think it looks really cool.

“Actually, there’s one thing I was hoping we could do. Would you mind showing me the tree you planted for your master?”  
Obi-Wan doesn’t look over at him. “It’s not exactly one of Coruscant’s biggest attractions.”

“I’m not here for tourism, I’m here for you.” Cody purposefully softens his gaze and smiles at Obi-Wan. “You’ve met all of my family, and I want to meet all of yours.”

“You’re so sentimental,” Obi-Wan mutters, wrapping one arm around Cody’s waist to pull him in closer. Up close, he smells like lavender soap he always uses, and warm bread, and a dozen other lovely things. Also, and this is just the summer talking, sweat and burgers.

“Of course I am.” Cody gives Obi-Wan’s shoulder a squeeze. “Look, I’ve been thinking a lot since lunch about—not to ruin the mood. But about Umbara. And all my brothers who are buried there. I... I want to see. What people are supposed to do.”

Obi-Wan scratches at his beard. “I did want to visit his memorial while I was here. I always—it’s silly, but I like to bring him incense. Even though it’s impossible, I hope somewhere in the Force, he knows I’m thinking about him.”

“Incense...,” Cody says, not wanting to reveal he doesn’t know what that is.

“Mhm. He liked the little sandalwood cones they burn in the Temple. They cycle them every week, and sometimes, they wouldn’t have any for months.” Obi-Wan’s grip around Cody’s waist tightens, and Cody obligingly snuggles closer to him as they walk back.

“Do we need to buy some?”  
“No, whenever it’s cycled in, I always steal a couple extra for him.” Cody must’ve made a very disbelieving look, because Obi-Wan laughs. “He did the same when he was alive.”

“Knowing your master was a bit of a rule-breaker makes it even less clear why you became the proverbial model Jedi.”

“Oh, well, you know,” Obi-Wan says, doubtless covering up a significant amount of history. He doesn’t expand on it, though, and Cody doesn’t push.

They arrive back at the Temple, which, despite the war, the Temple remains warm and tranquil. A gaggle of children, around ten years old, run past in a whirl of giggles and ruffled feathers (some metaphorical, some literal), and the older Jedi look on fondly.

Cody doesn’t feel particularly tranquil. His stomach churns the whole way back to Obi-Wan’s rooms. He’s been caught multiple times on the ship and on various planets, but never in the Temple itself.

“Would you rather have waited outside?”

“Yes.” Cody keeps looking over his shoulder, but no one is following them. Yet.

“Please, no one will mind.” Obi-Wan holds Cody’s hand as they walk, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “And it’s much cooler in here.”

The rooms Obi-Wan lives in are slightly dusty from disuse, the sunlight catching every mote.

“I used to have plants in here, but I had to donate them to one of the gardens. Couldn’t take care of them anymore.” He moves to a shelf and reaches behind it. “Ah, they’ve moved.” There’s a quiet whoosh, like the changing of air pressure, and then Obi-Wan produces a handful of small, rounded cones.

“Thought you weren’t supposed to do that.”

“Special circumstance.” Obi-Wan winks saucily for Cody’s benefit and gives him one of the cones to hang onto.

He squishes it gently while Obi-Wan hides the rest of them. It smells nice and crumbles slightly when he pokes it too hard.

Uh… no one will notice that. Probably.

“Well, at least I can finally leave this hat behind.” Obi-Wan tosses his straw hat onto the kitchen table. “Am I burnt anywhere?”

Cody very seriously and solemnly inspects Obi-Wan’s uncovered face and arms, poking the occasional freckle and trying not to smile when Obi-Wan scowls and swats at him. “All clear. But put on more sunscreen before we go out again.”

“Oh, fine.”

“And put the pie in the fridge.”

“...,” Obi-Wan says judgmentally.

They walk back outside through a side door, which leads to a vast garden. There are plants from all over the galaxy, without a brown leaf in sight (unless it’s supposed to be brown, or there are no leaves). Cody almost wants to kick off his shoes to sink his toes into the lush green grass that composes the pathways. An entire section of waist-high shrubs striped with fluorescent blue and shimmery pearl white fold up their leaves when they walk by, revealing black serrated edges. It doesn’t seem like a graveyard, except for the small memorial plaques hidden discretely among the greenery.

A sense of peace and balance is woven through the entire garden, not a single stick or stone out of place, planted so as to be in perfect harmony. The wild variety of colors and textures smooths out into a rippling organic rainbow, cut through by a crystal-clear brook of water leading to a reflective pond surrounded by weeping willows. He couldn’t name most of the plants, pulled from countless different planets, but coexisting all the same.

Jedi he’s never seen before are tending the plants. A middle-aged togruta woman kneels next to a small, freshly planted seedling. She presses her hands into the dirt around the seedling and closes her eyes. As she sits there, the plant shivers and starts to grow, new leaves unfolding, and after a moment, it’s nearly tripled in size.

“Strange to think,” Obi-Wan says to himself, holding on to Cody’s arm as they walk. “That was almost my job.”

“Can’t imagine you doing anything else.”

“If things had gone the way they were meant to, we likely never would have met. I’d be out there, somewhere.” Obi-Wan tilts his head at the pale blue expanse of the sky, streaked with the white contrails of passing aircraft. “Tending my plants.”

“Would you rather be out there?”  
There’s a pause while Obi-Wan chews his lip in thought. “No, I wouldn’t. I would have been content there, perhaps, but I’d be another person, with another life.”

“So… why do you say were you meant to become a magical gardener, then?” Cody asks.

Obi-Wan falls uncharacteristically silent, eyes fixed on the horizon. After a moment, he says, “Nobody wanted to train me as a padawan. I reached the age where I was no longer eligible to be chosen, and I was sent to the AgriCorps division on Bandomeer. A life of farming and tending the earth isn’t so awful, but I was young, and it seemed like my life was over.”

“Nobody wanted you?” Cody’s grip tightens protectively on Obi-Wan’s waist. “That’s kriffing stupid, you’re amazing. Best Jedi out there, and I should know, I’ve met more than my fair share of Knights.”

Obi-Wan shakes his head. “When I was young, I was impulsive, belligerent, a bit like Anakin. And many thought Master Yoda might choose me, so they stayed away.”

Cody finds the first bit hard to believe, and the second bit very easy indeed. “How did you become a Knight, then? If everyone else was toeing the party line?”

Obi-Wan stops in front of a smallish oak tree, untangling himself from Cody to kneel in the mulch around the tree. Carefully, he places the incense cone in a small metal dish nestled in between the roots. Then he sits down, lighting a match with deliberate motions. “I proved myself to Qui-Gon later, on Bandomeer.” He lights the cone and shakes the match out. A thin trickle of smoke drifts up, carried by the wind, roses and sandalwood.

Cody sits down in the grass next to him. “Do you want to keep talking about it?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

Obi-Wan twists the extinguished match into a knot. “It’s just—I’m grateful to him, angry with him, confused by him. I don’t know. But he’s gone now, and I miss him still.”

“Sounds like family to me.”

“Yes.” He presses his hand to the tree, and its branches tremble in the breeze. New, bright green leaves start to unfurl and catch the sunlight, practically glowing with energy, and tiny acorns form and grow and fall at their feet. After a moment, Obi-Wan sits back, breathing heavily. “Kriff, that’s hard.”

Cody holds out an arm and is rewarded when Obi-Wan tucks himself against Cody’s side.

The incense cone burns, turning to pale grey ash swept away by the wind. It’s not in a dish, but resting on top of a metal plaque with raised silver lettering.

“I am one with the Force,” Cody reads aloud, brushing aside some of the ash.

“And the Force is with me,” Obi-Wan says, as if in response. “He was always reminding me to stay grounded in the present; we were attuned to two different aspects of the Force, the Living and the Unifying. He’d have me repeat that to remind me not to dwell too much on the future. Thought he’d enjoy being able to remind me of that saying even in death.”

“That’s… that’s definitely something you would do.”

“Anakin told me it was morbid too. At least I appreciate my wit.”

They lie back in the grass together, and the clouds cast dappled shadows over them.

“Did you have fun today?” Obi-Wan asks.

“Me?”

“Mmhm.”

“Buckets of it.”

Obi-Wan twists around to give Cody a Look. “Honestly.”

“I’d do it all again, no questions asked. I really liked hanging out with you.”

“ _Hanging out_. Are we teenagers?” He frowns disapprovingly at the very idea, even as he holds on to Cody’s hand.

“Speak for yourself, I’m only sixteen. Technically.”

“Yes, but that’s well-seasoned, by clone standards. Damn near ancient, really. You’re practically twice Tup’s age.”

“Thank you for pointing that out,” Cody grumbles. He’s one of the oldest out of the CC and CT series, and getting older and greyer by the second. Soon, he’ll look more like a father than a brother of the incoming shinies. “You always did say you wanted to grow old with me, and if it’s a race, I’m winning.”

Obi-Wan shakes his head. “The key phrase there being _with you._ To extend the metaphor, I don’t want you to run away without me.”

“Two old sarcastic men, bickering unto eternity,” Cody says, pressing a kiss to Obi-Wan’s hair, strands of grey already cutting through the copper.

He looks up at Cody, smiling. “Of course.”

“S’a nice dream.”

“I’ve planned out an extensive fantasy. We live on a lush, forested planet in the Outer Rim. There’s an old Jedi temple there, and we take care of it. Sometimes, other Knights come by to visit. Mostly, they leave us alone. You venture into the forest to pick whatever passes for berries out there, and I bring you the relics I find in the dusty hallways of the temple. Whenever I don’t want to get out of bed, you lay with me, in the warmth and quiet. Whenever your bad knee acts up, I carry you around and kiss you and pretend you’re royalty. The stars turn, and I fall more in love with you with every revolution. And when we’re gone, people come to visit the temple, and they say, _Everyone knew how much they loved each other, even if they were two weird old hermits living in that haunted temple outside of town. Now that I look at it, it’s got rather nice architecture. Bet they fucked on every surface in the place_.”

Cody laughs and gives Obi-Wan’s shoulder a gentle smack. “Sounds about right. But you forgot the bit where you shower me in Force-grown acorns.”

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you,” Obi-Wan mutters to himself. “See if I grow you acorns again, ungrateful man.”

“Let’s just go back up to your place and eat pie.” He kisses Obi-Wan’s cheek and stands up, holding out his hand.

“Alright, fine. I could do with some pudding.”

Cody hauls Obi-Wan to his feet with a lot of dramatic groaning about joints. “See, now you’re just being annoying on purpose, calling dessert ‘pudding’.”

“ _They mean the same thing._ ”

“No, pudding is a specific dessert. You know, wiggles when poked, often chocolate flavored.”

“Well, if you don’t want yours, I’ll eat it myself.”

Cody can’t stop himself from making a noise of dismay.

“That’s what I thought.” Obi-Wan smiles smugly and wraps both arms around Cody’s waist. “Race you back?”

“What’s this? The man who takes offense at the phrase ‘hanging out’ for being juvenile wants to race?” he teases.

Obi-Wan tilts his head to the side and then bolts like there’s an entire army of clankers behind him. And Cody would know; he’s seen this run many, many times before. It takes Obi-Wan barely a minute to scale the side of the Temple, giving Cody the impression he’s done this before too.

“Damn cheater,” he mutters to himself. “If he eats my pie, I’m filling his bed with acorns.” But he’s smiling already, like an absolute idiot, even as Obi-Wan waves cheekily before diving into his quarters through the window.

And honestly? In that moment, it feels like there will always be time for happy interludes, and that one day, they might never end. Cody can feel their futures stretching out in front of them, twined together and all the stronger for it.

How could he forget something like this?


	2. going's all we know

The _Archon_ lands gracelessly in the Republic City shipyard, sending up a plume of grey dust. All the algae that had accumulated on its hull during its time spent docked on the oceans of Kamino has been turned to ash during the landing sequence, leaving the ship shiny as the day it was made.

The ship’s captain tells the few clones on board that they’re allowed to go where they want. CC-2224 is confused by this. He doesn’t have anywhere he wants to go. But an order is an order, and he figures it might be nice to have a change of scenery. He walks away from the ship and into the middle levels of the city, protected from the sun’s rays, but not the relentless heat. His greys are getting soaked with sweat, but he’s moving like he has to get to somewhere, and he can’t stop. Doesn’t want to stop. It’s an odd feeling, but not a bad one.

After walking nearly half an hour from the shipyard, CC-2224 finally arrives at the hollowed-out shell of a concrete building. He thinks it used to stretch up higher, but it was mostly destroyed a few years ago, and only the bottom few floors remain. He climbs the slope that leads up to the entranceway, and it feels strangely familiar. Like he’s been here before, with someone else. But wh[DATA NOT ALLOWED]. He doesn’t need to know who.

[GOOD SOLDIERS HAVE NO MEMORIES FROM BEFORE THE EMPIRE]

CC-2224 pushes aside some of the rubble that blocks the entrance. Inside, there’s a hallway that once might have been grand, and what looks like long-decayed human remains. All that’s left are fragments of bone and clothing, along with some kind of metal c[SAFETY FILTER ON].

Static covers the remains and pixelates them into nonsense, and CC-2224 grimaces, rubbing at his eyes with both hands.

[IT HURTS, YES, BUT NECESSARY THINGS OFTEN DO]

He stumbles away from the building, not wanting to see [WHERE THE TRAITORS TO THE EMPIRE WERE SO VALIANTLY DEFEATED BY OUR EXALTED EMPEROR PALPATINE AND HIS LOYAL CHAMPION, DARTH VADER]. A strange ache starts in his chest, like he’s missing something. But not someone, because [THE EMPIRE IS ALL YOU NEED].

Even though the streets are crowded, he’s never felt so alone, just one person in a sea of faces. He doesn’t recognize anyone, although people seem to recognize him. Before they can say anything, he rushes past; he shouldn’t hear their questions. That’s not permitted. As soon as he thinks it, a comforting coolness spreads across his skin; a reward for thinking correctly. Try as he might, he can’t help but enjoy it, even though it paradoxically feels like a betrayal.

CC-2224 lets his mind drift as he walks; the newest batch of cadets look wrong. They’re all mismatched, different ages, and they have no basic training. Teaching them is [AN IMPORTANT SERVICE TO THE EMPIRE]. He growls and grinds the heels of his hands into his eyes. Teaching them is [AN IMPORTANT SERVICE TO THE EMPIRE]. At least he’s a good teacher, although whenever he tries to remember his own teachers, it hurts.

He’s stopped trying to remember.

When he comes upon a fountain, he sits down on the closest bench with a heavy sigh. He’s nearly fifty now, which isn’t so old, but being force-grown for so long has left him with a list of physical problems. [THE TRAITORS DID NOT CARE ABOUT YOUR WELL-BEING. BUT THE EMPIRE CARES] His knees and back are always stiff as hell, but the bone-deep ache can only mean the weather is shifting.

The surrounding area is nothing but flat pavement, the only movement in the slow progression of the shadows and the bubble of water in the fountain.

CC-2224 looks up at the elegantly carved statue, made of a pure white marble with veins of faint pink, imported from Naboo. The marble alone must have cost a fortune. It’s notoriously difficult to shape, prone to chipping along the pink seams. But it perfectly captures [DARTH VADER]’s wife, Padmé Amidala, holding her baby in her arms in the middle of wide, shallow pool. Water pours from her eyes like she’s crying, and splashes in a more traditional fountain-style underneath her. She and the baby were both [TRAGICALLY LOST] during the [RISE OF THE EMPIRE]. Judging by the dedication plate, this fountain was commissioned a few years after her death, one among many such monuments on nearly every [IMPERIAL] world. She cradles her unnamed baby in her arms, head bowed in sorrow, the chain of a necklace trailing from one hand. The pendant is always hidden from view, but he’d seen enough of her monuments, in steel and glass and precious gems, to recognize the pattern.

He can’t help but wonder what it’s like to love someone so much, you scatter the galaxy with reflections of her, so you never forget her face. Torture yourself again and again with visions of what could have been. He’s [NEVER KNOWN LOVE, EXCEPT LOVE FOR THE EMPIRE]. CC-2224 bites down hard on his lip, the ache starting again just above his right temple. His chest tightens, and he doesn’t know why.

The fountain that used to be here is gone now, the statues of [DATA NOT ALLOWED] that he saw with [DATA NOT ALLOWED]—with—[PLEASE STOP]

He presses a hand to his head, wincing as his thoughts stop right in their tracks. It never happens this often on Kamino, but then again, there’s less to see on Kamino.

His other hand stretches across the bench, like he’s reaching for someone. But he’s sitting alone, in a forgotten park.

He drags himself upright, groaning as his joints creak and crack the way they do when he sits down for too long.

Something in the wind is tugging him onward, and he should stretch, anyway. He makes his way through the city proper again, enough levels down that it’s not bright anymore, just hot. This part of the city was destroyed years ago, when [THE EMPIRE PURGED THE CORRUPTION FROM THE HEART OF CORUSCANT]. CC-2224 can almost trick himself into thinking he recognizes the hollowed-out ruins of the buildings. A clothing store here, a cafe there, various diners and restaurants and speeder repair shops. For a moment, he sees a flash of something tan in the dusty grey wreckage, hears the sizzle of a burger hitting a hot grill, the chatter of civilians going about their days [SAFETY FILTER ON]. But it’s nothing.

[IT IS ALWAYS NOTHING]

It is always nothing, and he’s always alone. Something about being here drives it home, that he’s not just alone, but violently, painfully _lonely_. The worst part is that he can’t quite remember why.

He looks down at a faded sign that reads, “Pie of the Week: Shuura and Lemon!” For some reason, his heart starts to pound, and something cold crawls down his spine, and he has to look away. But why? He’s seen things like this on a dozen different planets. The ruins the Empire creates.

[THAT'S ENOUGH SIGHTSEEING. RETURN TO THE _ARCHON_ IMMEDIATELY]

He can’t think of a single reason to resist.

[THERE ARE NO REASONS—ONLY THE MIGHT AND GLORY OF THE EMPIRE]

Stumbling at first, he makes his way back to the ship, barely able to see the ground under his feet through the static.

The impersonal metallic facade of the city radiates the heat and light of the sun—he wishes he could find that fountain again. Even some patch of shade. Skyw[DATA NOT ALLOWED] whoever said desert planets were the worst had clearly never been on a metal box planet in the heat of summer.

Without even meaning to, he’s returned to destroyed building again. Maybe some kind of cathedral, temple? He thinks there should be music, maybe, or people. The shell of it seems familiar, somehow, and he gets a single flicker of memory—same summer heat, someone by his side, and gods, he loves them—[DATA INFRACTION DETECTED. SECURITY ALERTED]

CC-2224 swears under his breath. Why can’t he just keep his thoughts in line? It was so much easier in the beginning, although he suspects that the chip is starting to break down. He used to be the perfect soldier, with its help, but it’s so hard now. [THE EMPIRE WILL HELP YOU BECOME PERFECT AGAIN]

That’s right. The Empire will help him.

He wanders around the building until he discovers a vast, abandoned garden. It used to be green and beautiful, although it’s been dead for years now. The trunks of old trees and dry twigs dot the flower beds, and the gravel path has been scattered. CC-2224 can see the remnants of care, pruned ends of branches and rock gardens full of footprints, but it’s abandoned now. It used to be beautiful, once upon a time, like so many things in the galaxy.

[THE EMPIRE HAS GIVEN THE GALAXY THE BEAUTY OF ORDER AND PROSPERITY]

The Empire is perfect.

[THE EMPIRE IS PERFECT]

He’s drawn towards an oak tree off to the right. A few dead leaves cling to its branches, and its bark is sloughing off in sheets, revealing silvered wood underneath. For some reason, the abandonment of this particular tree hurts the most, reminds him of brothers long gone. Time gone by.

There’s a small nameplate at the base of the tree, and it reads [DATA NOT ALLOWED]. CC-2224 scrubs at his eyes and squints again, running his fingers over the scorching-hot metal. [DATA NOT ALLOWED] He presses his hand against the metal and feels the words embed themselves on his skin. [STOP THAT. _STOP IT._ ]

A new pain stabs somewhere behind his eyes, and he stumbles backwards.

[SAFETY FILTER ON. NOTE: CC-2224 IS NO LONGER PERMITTED ON CORUSCANT]

“I need to know what it says!” he yells, surprising himself with the desperation of his words.

[GOOD SOLDIERS DO NOT MAKE DEMANDS]

He hears footsteps behind him, the familiar one-two march of booted stormtrooper feet. The resignation is probably the worst. This time could be when they decide he’s not worth the trouble anymore and finally send him to be recycled, but he doesn’t even want to run. They’d catch him, anyway.

“CC-2224. You are being returned to Kamino for evaluation following a data infraction against the Empire.” The commander is wearing a blue fabric pauldron, just on one shoulder, and for some reason, it hurts to see.

“I know,” he says.

They take his sidearm, which is honestly an insult—they think he can’t kick their collective asses unarmed.

[YOU ARE A GOOD SOLDIER, CC-2224. DO NOT RUIN IT NOW]

“Can’t believe they’re bothering to keep these things alive anymore,” one of the troopers mutters. “They’re such a fucking pain.”

“Can I just—can you read that for me?” he asks as he’s dragged to his feet, adding sarcastically, “I know, I’m not really a person, but I’d still like to know.”

The same trooper stares at him. “You can’t _read_?”

CC-2224 grits his teeth, trying not to swear. “My vision’s being filtered.”

“Okay, I’ll read it for you,” another trooper says, even as the first yanks CC-2224’s arms behind his back. “Shut up, 1093, what’s it gonna hurt? It says _QGJ—I am one with the Force._ ”

The words slot into an empty place in his head like a key. _And the Force is with me_. For a second, he feels someone standing next to him, a cool shadow in the summer sun, and he smells sandalwood and roses. For the first time in years, his thoughts feel clear.

His shoulders relax from their military-straight posture, and something bubbles in his chest that feels _good_ , happy. He thinks he might want to laugh and can’t remember the last time he actually did. But what’s funny? Something about… something. If only he could remember _more_.

[CRITICAL INFRACTION DETECTED. SECURITY ALERTED]

“Shut the hell up, I’m trying to _think_ —” he mutters under his breath. There’s fire under his skin for the first time in years, and it feels like he’s coming back to life.

[ERROR DETECTED IN VERBAL FILTRATION SYSTEM. ERROR DETECTED IN COGNITIVE FILTRATION SYSTEM. SECURITY ALERTED. CLONE UNIT SLATED FOR IMMEDIATE RECONDITIONING]

The stormtroopers all look down at their comms, then up at him.

His body tenses; he’s been training these idiots for years, and gods, it feels good to pinpoint the exact weaknesses in their armor, put together a plan to kick their collective asses.

The trooper tightens his grip around CC-2224’s shoulder, ready to cuff him, and the commander says, “CC-2224, you are being returned to Ka—”

CC-2224 is not having that shit. He's never going back to Kamino, especially not for reconditioning. When he runs, they’ll try to follow him, and they’ll call in more troopers to help. So he’ll just have to make sure they can’t make any calls.

All troopers have a backup vibroblade, sheathed at the waist. It’s not large but deadly enough in the right hands, and CC-2224’s hands were made to be the right ones.

It's nice to grab the hand holding him and twist the arm, forcing the trooper over and practically offering the blade up. CC-2224 unsheaths it, turns it on, and the next few moments are lost in the ensuing frenzy. He forgets his aching joints, the pain in his head, the heat of the day—there’s just the next move in the game.

He’s always been good at playing games.

When he comes back to himself, he has the blade leveled at the trooper who’d read the plaque aloud to him. Doubtless regretting their life decisions and wondering if they’d accidentally read some kind of sleeper activation code out loud.

“Hey. Thanks,” CC-2224 says. Then he knocks them out with the butt of the knife and runs.

[STOP DOING THAT. WHAT ARE YOU DOING? SECURITY ALERTED. SECURITY ALERTED]

Every step on the hard pavement makes his knees throb. Would it kill them to have driven here in a speeder?

[THAT IS nOT AlloWeD]

He runs very obviously away from the Temple, towards the shipyard, then doubles back. He intends to keep going, but by the time he’s back at the Temple, his legs and back hurt so much he can barely move, and he has to hide instead.

There’s just destroyed fountains over here, tucked away into a series of alcoves that connect to the next street over. He’d thought the one was strange, but do they all have Amidalas inside? That would be really weird.

[SECURITY ALERtEd]

Ah, _fuck_. He closes his eyes, stumbling into one of the alcoves, hissing as he sits down on a patch of clear ground and jars his back.

He’s got to get off the planet, somehow. They’re going to chase him—nobody escapes the Empire. Well, in his case, they don't let Imperial property wander off. There should be some way out of here that doesn’t involve the _Archon_ , but he can’t remember anything, no matter how hard he tries. Old neurons slow to wake up, or something.

[RETURN. RETURN. RETURN]

The headache slowly ramps up as he tries to regain his energy, until he can barely move without feeling sick.

He’s well and truly fucked.

CC-2224 forces himself to stand and stumbles to the ground as everything shifts around him in a dizzying whirl. Something in his gut starts to churn, and he presses a hand over his mouth.

It’s too hard.

Maybe this is it. Maybe the chip in his head is finally going to kill him.

Took it long enough.

[THIS IS _NOT ALLOWED_ this is NOT!! ALLOWED thiS IS _NOT_ ALLOWED]

He curls up in the ruins of the old fountain. If he doesn’t move, it doesn’t hurt quite so much.

He’d never been to Coruscant before, but now he knows he has. The point on his skull above where the chip is embedded throbs meaningfully in response, so it’s probably true. But who was he with? Not QGJ, whoever they were. They’d been dead a long time, for the tree to grow that large.

He can’t fucking remember, no matter how hard he tries. “I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me,” he repeats under his breath, like that might help.

He’s never been so alone before, so—everything is wrong, and he wishes he could just understand.

[YOU WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND you will never understand you will never—]

Just as the hopelessness starts to sink in, he hears a quiet hum from somewhere far away. Not from a person—it’s more like chimes or ringing glass than a living voice. He reaches out hesitantly, wondering what it could be.

His hands touch something cool and polished, cut like a gem. Whatever it is, it’s practically singing under his touch, and he can taste sunshine, not the harsh light of Coruscant, but golden, from far away.

CC-2224 stifles a cry of pain and doubles over, vision glitching and pixelating. The crystal in his hand chimes like glass hitting the floor, and it shines so bright he can see it through his closed eyes.

[CRITICAL ERROR criTICAL eRr&#=error]

[. . .]

[. . .]

His head feels like it’s about to split open, or maybe it already has, and he’s dead, he’s definitely dead, he has to be dead—and then it fades.

When he opens his eyes, the crystal is ordinary pale gold, and he _remembers_.

A gentle hand sliding into his own, a warm voice, talking about families and history and things he shouldn’t have. A name floats up to him through the hazy memories, and he grabs onto it greedily—just a first name, a fragment, but it has so much wrapped up inside—sky blue eyes, hair turning copper in the sunlight, a determined smile. _Obi-Wan_. He slides his hands up the outsides of his own arms and squeezes tight, missing a lost man’s touch.

The pieces fall into place, and he’s finally allowed to make sense of them.

[. . .]

Yeah, that’s what he thought.

Obi-Wan Kenobi, missing, presumed dead. But not dead. Because if he’s dead, then there really is nothing left.

The crystal shines, as if chiding him. Although it’s a piece of crystal, so what does it really know?

Cody stands up for the first time in twelve years. There’s dried blood crusting his hands and uniform, he’s trapped in enemy territory, and he’s alone. Mostly alone. But he has a future again, unfolding in front of him like undiscovered land in the light of dawn.

Might as well chase it, while he can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part II coming soon to computers near you.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Sun Hat [FAN ART]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29615250) by [Livfiction](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Livfiction/pseuds/Livfiction)




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